Porny Prompt #5 - Yield Point (Entangled Particles!John/Rodney, R/NC-17)
Title: Yield Point
Author: Zinnith
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: R/NC-17
Wordcount: ~2300
Warnings: Butchering of the English language (i.e. unbeta'd). Angryscaredpossessive!sex with very very slight d/s elements, because I can't imagine any universe where John isn't at least a little bit of a submission slut.
Disclaimer: Still not mine, damnit!
Summary: In which John has a disagreement with a basketball court and Rodney might be having a heart attack.
Notes: Some Engangled Particles porn for rhuad . This story is a bit of a set-up for Transformation Theory, the next big fic in the series. (You know, the one I said I might possibly write a year and a half ago?)
Yield Point
Rodney was having a heart attack. Well, maybe not really, but if his heart kept racing like this, he was most certainly going to have one, and where the hell were the damn car keys?
The apartment was more or less upside down and Newton had taken refuge on the top of the bookshelf. Rodney glared at him and shouted, “It was you, wasn’t it? How many times do I have to tell you, my keys are not cat toys!”
Newton stared at him for a moment with green eyes, clearly wondering if the human had completely lost his mind, and then turned his back to Rodney, oozing feline hostility.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, but I have to find them!”
Hal Lindberg, John’s boss, had called only a moment ago with the message that ‘Sheppard’s in the ER, you might wanna come pick him up’. Rodney hadn’t listened to the rest, he’d just slammed down the reciever and gone to hunt down the car keys, but they seemed to have vaporised over night or something, and now he was having a heart attack.
All right, what was it Laura always told him? Close your eyes. Breathe. In. Out. Car keys. When was the last time he’d had them? He’d picked John up from work yesterday (damn kids, it was their fault, they ought to know John could never resist a challenge and now he was in the hospital, possibly dying, and Rodney wouldn’t survive without him) and it had been a little chilly so he’d worn...
Rodney opened his eyes, walked to the hall closet and fished the keys out of the pocket of his corduroy jacket.
* * *
Hal Lindberg was waiting outside the ER entrance at Mercy General when Rodney came jogging from the parking lot. With a little luck, no one would ever find out how fast he’d been driving to get there.
“Where is he?” Rodney shouted. “What did they do to him, I want to see him now, I’m not too late, am I?”
“He’s gonna be fine, McKay, he torn a tendon in his knee,” Hal said, completely unmoved by the fact that Rodney’s boyfriend was in the hospital with life threathening injuries.
“Torn? Is it the same leg? Are they going to be able to save it?” Rodney’s mind was promptly filled with horrific images of John in a wheelchair, leg amputated above the knee. That would destroy him.
“Yes, he’ll be fine,” Hal repeated, in the same tone Rodney had heard him use when trying to calm down a hysterical kid. Rodney felt mildly insulted. He wasn’t hysterical. Okay, maybe a little.
“Why are we still standing here?” he snapped, pushing past Hal and through the doors.
Hospitals. Rodney hated them. Given that he’d spent most of his childhood and a big part of his adult life around them, it was just unfair that he’d found himself with an accident-prone boyfriend who took every chance he got to do grievious harm to himself.
Hal pointed him in the right direction, muttering something about ‘Sheppard warned me you would be like this’. Rodney ignored him and hurried through the corridors. There were people in the way, and at least two nosy nurses stopped him and demanded to know where he was going. He left the younger one crying. He’d apologise to her later. Right now, he needed to find John, and make sure he was alive, and if he was, Rodney was going to kill him.
John, it turned out, was very much alive and more than a little medicated. There was a goofy smile on his face as Rodney threw the door to his examination room open. “There you are!” Rodney shouted. “No, no, don’t tell me, you went on that infernal skateboard again and decided this would be a good time to fall and break your neck and leave me a broken and grieving man!”
“I was nowhere near the skateboard, we were playing basket! And it’s not my neck, it’s my knee,” John tried to defend himself.
Rodney snorted. “Whatever. You have the self preservation instinct of a lemming.” His hands were shaking. When had that happened? He sank down onto the chair beside the gurney, knees suddenly very weak. His heart was still trying to pound its way out of his ribcage. Well, at least he would already be in the hospital when the heart attack came.
Hal, who had followed Rodney at a safe distance, peered in through the door. “Ah, he found you. I’ll leave you to it then. Let me know how it turns out, Sheppard.”
“Will do,” John said, waving him off. “Thanks for the help!” Then he turned to Rodney. “You okay?”
“Am I okay? I’m not the one in a hospital bed.” Rodney wanted to tell him exactly what he thought about that, but all his words had suddenly deserted him. He sagged a little in the chair. “Sorry. I just... after last time...”
The last time, John had crashed a helicopter and almost died. They hadn’t even been together back then, and Rodney had still felt like the bottom dropped out of his world when he got the news. He’d been on a plane to San Antonio before he even had time to reflect over the fact that he’d only met Major Sheppard once before and only really knew him through e-mails and postcards.
Rodney had nightmares about it sometimes, about John dying on the Antarctic ice. He could’ve lost John then, it could’ve been over before it even started, and John just couldn’t get it through his thick head that he was important.
John reached out a hand and grabbed Rodney’s, holding it tight. “I’m okay. Nothing to be worried about. A little surgery, a little PT, I’ll be as good as new. Calm down.”
“Hmm,” Rodney murmured, scrubbing his free hand over his face. He suddenly felt a little dizzy and very cold. “Yes, yes, I’m calm. It’s just, I got worried and I couldn’t find the car keys, and I should probably get a snack or something, I can just feel all that adrenaline burning through my glucose reserves and, and, there was a vending machine in the waiting room wasn’t there?”
John smiled. “Yeah, there is. Go get something to eat, okay? I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Okay,” Rodney echoed. “I will. In a minute.” But he couldn’t bring himself to move from the chair, and ten minutes later, he was still sitting there, clutching John’s hand like a lifeline.
* * *
John needed to learn how to be a proper convalescent. Or at least be more grateful that Rodney had taken time off work to play nursemaid. The first day after the surgery, he’d been content to stay on the couch, letting Rodney fetch him drinks and ice packs and TV remotes and golf magazines, but the next day, he wanted to get up and take care of himself. Never mind the fact that John was clearly incapable of taking care of himself. Rodney was never letting him out of the apartment again.
It had not taken long for a severe case of cabin fever to set in and Rodney frequently found himself wishing for a pair of good solid handcuffs. That way, he would know where he had John without contantly having to keep an eye on him. And he had to keep an eye on John. Every time Rodney turned his back, he tried to get up and do something stupid.
By the end of day three, John was sulking and Rodney was exhausted. He’d parked John in front of a M*A*S*H marathon and was currently standing in the kitchen, staring vaguely at the coffee machine. He’d come here to get... something. Food? He’d had to force himself to eat the past few days. Nothing tasted good. He hadn’t slept well either, kept lying awake staring at the ceiling long after John had fallen asleep.
Maybe he was having a nervous breakdown?
“Rodney?” came John’s voice from the living room. Rodney knew that tone of voice. It meant that John was bored, or horny, or possibly both.
“Rodney!” This time it was almost a whine. Rodney closed his eyes again and breathed. In. Out. All right, the breakdown could wait.
John was slumped on the couch, the leg with the knee brace sticking out stiffly in front of him. Apparently, Hawkeye and Trapper’s antics on the TV hadn’t been able to hold his attention very long. Either that, or he’d been jerking off to M*A*S*H, of all things and that would be weird even for John. He had one hand down the front of his sweatpants, cupping a rather impressive erection. “Hey there,” he said, with that infuriating little smirk that shouldn’t be so hot. “Wanna help me out with this?”
“No,” Rodney said. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to but John was hurt and it wouldn’t be a responsible thing to do. “Absolutely not. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it would be if I had to tell your doctor I broke you with sex?”
John actually pouted. “You’re no fun,” he complained.
“You’re not supposed to do anything strenuous for at least another few weeks,” Rodney countered.
“So, I’ll just take care of it myself then,” John said, sounding very much like a petulant child who’d just been told he couldn’t have cookies before dinner. He shoved the sweatpants and boxers down and stroked his hard length a few times. “You can watch if you want.”
Rodney’s mouth went dry. He could feel his own cock stirring in his pants - it was the natural reaction to seeing John like this. But instead of turned on, Rodney just felt suddenly, inexplicably angry.
All right. If John wanted sex, he’d get it. But they were going to do it Rodney’s way.
John’s expression turned wary as Rodney stalked up to the couch and dropped to his knees between John’s spread legs. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice coming out in a near growl.
John cleared his throat. “Um...okay?” He shifted and squirmed a little against the cushions.
Rodney took John’s hips in a tight grip - there would be bruises tomorrow - and glared up at him. “I’m serious. Hold still or I’ll stop.”
There must’ve been something in his look or in is voice, because John’s eyes suddenly turned very dark, pupils completely blown. “Well, if you’re gonna be that way,” he mumbled, but he stilled on the couch, relaxing into Rodney’s hands. Rodney leaned forward, opened his mouth, and took John in. There was one single sharp gasp, John’s thighs tensed and he gripped the sofa cushions so hard his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t move.
Rodney just couldn’t bring himself to be elegant about it. He knew he could take John apart completely with his mouth if he wanted, could keep him on the edge for hours. This time, every lick of tongue, every nip of teeth brought him back to those terrifying moments when he hadn’t known, when John had only existed in some kind of limbo between life and death, between fine and irreparably damaged.
He’d intended to be gentle, to tease and torture until John was a panting wreck, but once he’d started, Rodney could only find enough presence of mind to be careful of his injured knee.
Yes, definitely a nervous breakdown. He was probably going crazy.
He didn’t get any warning. One moment, John was struggling not to move, the next he was coming, hot and salt all over Rodney’s tongue. Rodney closed his eyes, concentrating on the taste, the smell, trying to wrap John’s presence around himself like a warm soft blanket.
When Rodney looked up again, John looked stunned and slightly ridiculous, with his sweatpants around his knees and his spent cock lying wetly against his thigh. “Whoa,” he said, blinking. “That was unexpectedly hot. I think I have a new kink.”
Rodney felt too wrung out to answer. He’d come in his pants without even noticing. His knees hurt from the hard floor, but he didn’t feel like getting up. Instead, he pressed his face against John’s hairy thigh and just breathed. He might be trembling a little, but he wasn’t sure.
A moment later, John’s hand came down to cup his face. “Hey, come on buddy, it’s okay, it’s all right. I’m all right.”
“I know,” Rodney rasped. He distantly wondered what Laura and his publisher would say if he decided to just stay here like this for the rest of his life.
“Come here.” John coaxed him to his feet and then pulled him down on the couch, holding him close. “I told Hal to tell you not to worry, but you didn’t listen, did you?”
“I panicked,” Rodney admitted. “And I might’ve hung up on him but, the car keys, they were gone, and Newton was absolutely no help at all and I just... I...”
“Freaked out,” John smiled and pressed a kiss against his temple. “I knew you would.”
Rodney sighed and relaxed against John. He wanted to explain, wanted to make sure John knew. If I lost you... The explanation would be enough to fill a novel, and Rodney was just too tired to search for the right words. He grabbed John’s hand instead and held on, just like he’d done in the hospital, as if letting go would make John disappear into thin air.
“Bed?” John breathed into his neck. “You can tie me up if you want. Make sure you know where you’ve got me.”
Rodney pondered the cuff idea again. It was not bad. Until then, he’d just have to improvise. In a little while...
He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
- fin -
Author: Zinnith
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: R/NC-17
Wordcount: ~2300
Warnings: Butchering of the English language (i.e. unbeta'd). Angryscaredpossessive!sex with very very slight d/s elements, because I can't imagine any universe where John isn't at least a little bit of a submission slut.
Disclaimer: Still not mine, damnit!
Summary: In which John has a disagreement with a basketball court and Rodney might be having a heart attack.
Notes: Some Engangled Particles porn for rhuad . This story is a bit of a set-up for Transformation Theory, the next big fic in the series. (You know, the one I said I might possibly write a year and a half ago?)
Yield Point
Rodney was having a heart attack. Well, maybe not really, but if his heart kept racing like this, he was most certainly going to have one, and where the hell were the damn car keys?
The apartment was more or less upside down and Newton had taken refuge on the top of the bookshelf. Rodney glared at him and shouted, “It was you, wasn’t it? How many times do I have to tell you, my keys are not cat toys!”
Newton stared at him for a moment with green eyes, clearly wondering if the human had completely lost his mind, and then turned his back to Rodney, oozing feline hostility.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, but I have to find them!”
Hal Lindberg, John’s boss, had called only a moment ago with the message that ‘Sheppard’s in the ER, you might wanna come pick him up’. Rodney hadn’t listened to the rest, he’d just slammed down the reciever and gone to hunt down the car keys, but they seemed to have vaporised over night or something, and now he was having a heart attack.
All right, what was it Laura always told him? Close your eyes. Breathe. In. Out. Car keys. When was the last time he’d had them? He’d picked John up from work yesterday (damn kids, it was their fault, they ought to know John could never resist a challenge and now he was in the hospital, possibly dying, and Rodney wouldn’t survive without him) and it had been a little chilly so he’d worn...
Rodney opened his eyes, walked to the hall closet and fished the keys out of the pocket of his corduroy jacket.
* * *
Hal Lindberg was waiting outside the ER entrance at Mercy General when Rodney came jogging from the parking lot. With a little luck, no one would ever find out how fast he’d been driving to get there.
“Where is he?” Rodney shouted. “What did they do to him, I want to see him now, I’m not too late, am I?”
“He’s gonna be fine, McKay, he torn a tendon in his knee,” Hal said, completely unmoved by the fact that Rodney’s boyfriend was in the hospital with life threathening injuries.
“Torn? Is it the same leg? Are they going to be able to save it?” Rodney’s mind was promptly filled with horrific images of John in a wheelchair, leg amputated above the knee. That would destroy him.
“Yes, he’ll be fine,” Hal repeated, in the same tone Rodney had heard him use when trying to calm down a hysterical kid. Rodney felt mildly insulted. He wasn’t hysterical. Okay, maybe a little.
“Why are we still standing here?” he snapped, pushing past Hal and through the doors.
Hospitals. Rodney hated them. Given that he’d spent most of his childhood and a big part of his adult life around them, it was just unfair that he’d found himself with an accident-prone boyfriend who took every chance he got to do grievious harm to himself.
Hal pointed him in the right direction, muttering something about ‘Sheppard warned me you would be like this’. Rodney ignored him and hurried through the corridors. There were people in the way, and at least two nosy nurses stopped him and demanded to know where he was going. He left the younger one crying. He’d apologise to her later. Right now, he needed to find John, and make sure he was alive, and if he was, Rodney was going to kill him.
John, it turned out, was very much alive and more than a little medicated. There was a goofy smile on his face as Rodney threw the door to his examination room open. “There you are!” Rodney shouted. “No, no, don’t tell me, you went on that infernal skateboard again and decided this would be a good time to fall and break your neck and leave me a broken and grieving man!”
“I was nowhere near the skateboard, we were playing basket! And it’s not my neck, it’s my knee,” John tried to defend himself.
Rodney snorted. “Whatever. You have the self preservation instinct of a lemming.” His hands were shaking. When had that happened? He sank down onto the chair beside the gurney, knees suddenly very weak. His heart was still trying to pound its way out of his ribcage. Well, at least he would already be in the hospital when the heart attack came.
Hal, who had followed Rodney at a safe distance, peered in through the door. “Ah, he found you. I’ll leave you to it then. Let me know how it turns out, Sheppard.”
“Will do,” John said, waving him off. “Thanks for the help!” Then he turned to Rodney. “You okay?”
“Am I okay? I’m not the one in a hospital bed.” Rodney wanted to tell him exactly what he thought about that, but all his words had suddenly deserted him. He sagged a little in the chair. “Sorry. I just... after last time...”
The last time, John had crashed a helicopter and almost died. They hadn’t even been together back then, and Rodney had still felt like the bottom dropped out of his world when he got the news. He’d been on a plane to San Antonio before he even had time to reflect over the fact that he’d only met Major Sheppard once before and only really knew him through e-mails and postcards.
Rodney had nightmares about it sometimes, about John dying on the Antarctic ice. He could’ve lost John then, it could’ve been over before it even started, and John just couldn’t get it through his thick head that he was important.
John reached out a hand and grabbed Rodney’s, holding it tight. “I’m okay. Nothing to be worried about. A little surgery, a little PT, I’ll be as good as new. Calm down.”
“Hmm,” Rodney murmured, scrubbing his free hand over his face. He suddenly felt a little dizzy and very cold. “Yes, yes, I’m calm. It’s just, I got worried and I couldn’t find the car keys, and I should probably get a snack or something, I can just feel all that adrenaline burning through my glucose reserves and, and, there was a vending machine in the waiting room wasn’t there?”
John smiled. “Yeah, there is. Go get something to eat, okay? I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Okay,” Rodney echoed. “I will. In a minute.” But he couldn’t bring himself to move from the chair, and ten minutes later, he was still sitting there, clutching John’s hand like a lifeline.
* * *
John needed to learn how to be a proper convalescent. Or at least be more grateful that Rodney had taken time off work to play nursemaid. The first day after the surgery, he’d been content to stay on the couch, letting Rodney fetch him drinks and ice packs and TV remotes and golf magazines, but the next day, he wanted to get up and take care of himself. Never mind the fact that John was clearly incapable of taking care of himself. Rodney was never letting him out of the apartment again.
It had not taken long for a severe case of cabin fever to set in and Rodney frequently found himself wishing for a pair of good solid handcuffs. That way, he would know where he had John without contantly having to keep an eye on him. And he had to keep an eye on John. Every time Rodney turned his back, he tried to get up and do something stupid.
By the end of day three, John was sulking and Rodney was exhausted. He’d parked John in front of a M*A*S*H marathon and was currently standing in the kitchen, staring vaguely at the coffee machine. He’d come here to get... something. Food? He’d had to force himself to eat the past few days. Nothing tasted good. He hadn’t slept well either, kept lying awake staring at the ceiling long after John had fallen asleep.
Maybe he was having a nervous breakdown?
“Rodney?” came John’s voice from the living room. Rodney knew that tone of voice. It meant that John was bored, or horny, or possibly both.
“Rodney!” This time it was almost a whine. Rodney closed his eyes again and breathed. In. Out. All right, the breakdown could wait.
John was slumped on the couch, the leg with the knee brace sticking out stiffly in front of him. Apparently, Hawkeye and Trapper’s antics on the TV hadn’t been able to hold his attention very long. Either that, or he’d been jerking off to M*A*S*H, of all things and that would be weird even for John. He had one hand down the front of his sweatpants, cupping a rather impressive erection. “Hey there,” he said, with that infuriating little smirk that shouldn’t be so hot. “Wanna help me out with this?”
“No,” Rodney said. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to but John was hurt and it wouldn’t be a responsible thing to do. “Absolutely not. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it would be if I had to tell your doctor I broke you with sex?”
John actually pouted. “You’re no fun,” he complained.
“You’re not supposed to do anything strenuous for at least another few weeks,” Rodney countered.
“So, I’ll just take care of it myself then,” John said, sounding very much like a petulant child who’d just been told he couldn’t have cookies before dinner. He shoved the sweatpants and boxers down and stroked his hard length a few times. “You can watch if you want.”
Rodney’s mouth went dry. He could feel his own cock stirring in his pants - it was the natural reaction to seeing John like this. But instead of turned on, Rodney just felt suddenly, inexplicably angry.
All right. If John wanted sex, he’d get it. But they were going to do it Rodney’s way.
John’s expression turned wary as Rodney stalked up to the couch and dropped to his knees between John’s spread legs. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice coming out in a near growl.
John cleared his throat. “Um...okay?” He shifted and squirmed a little against the cushions.
Rodney took John’s hips in a tight grip - there would be bruises tomorrow - and glared up at him. “I’m serious. Hold still or I’ll stop.”
There must’ve been something in his look or in is voice, because John’s eyes suddenly turned very dark, pupils completely blown. “Well, if you’re gonna be that way,” he mumbled, but he stilled on the couch, relaxing into Rodney’s hands. Rodney leaned forward, opened his mouth, and took John in. There was one single sharp gasp, John’s thighs tensed and he gripped the sofa cushions so hard his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t move.
Rodney just couldn’t bring himself to be elegant about it. He knew he could take John apart completely with his mouth if he wanted, could keep him on the edge for hours. This time, every lick of tongue, every nip of teeth brought him back to those terrifying moments when he hadn’t known, when John had only existed in some kind of limbo between life and death, between fine and irreparably damaged.
He’d intended to be gentle, to tease and torture until John was a panting wreck, but once he’d started, Rodney could only find enough presence of mind to be careful of his injured knee.
Yes, definitely a nervous breakdown. He was probably going crazy.
He didn’t get any warning. One moment, John was struggling not to move, the next he was coming, hot and salt all over Rodney’s tongue. Rodney closed his eyes, concentrating on the taste, the smell, trying to wrap John’s presence around himself like a warm soft blanket.
When Rodney looked up again, John looked stunned and slightly ridiculous, with his sweatpants around his knees and his spent cock lying wetly against his thigh. “Whoa,” he said, blinking. “That was unexpectedly hot. I think I have a new kink.”
Rodney felt too wrung out to answer. He’d come in his pants without even noticing. His knees hurt from the hard floor, but he didn’t feel like getting up. Instead, he pressed his face against John’s hairy thigh and just breathed. He might be trembling a little, but he wasn’t sure.
A moment later, John’s hand came down to cup his face. “Hey, come on buddy, it’s okay, it’s all right. I’m all right.”
“I know,” Rodney rasped. He distantly wondered what Laura and his publisher would say if he decided to just stay here like this for the rest of his life.
“Come here.” John coaxed him to his feet and then pulled him down on the couch, holding him close. “I told Hal to tell you not to worry, but you didn’t listen, did you?”
“I panicked,” Rodney admitted. “And I might’ve hung up on him but, the car keys, they were gone, and Newton was absolutely no help at all and I just... I...”
“Freaked out,” John smiled and pressed a kiss against his temple. “I knew you would.”
Rodney sighed and relaxed against John. He wanted to explain, wanted to make sure John knew. If I lost you... The explanation would be enough to fill a novel, and Rodney was just too tired to search for the right words. He grabbed John’s hand instead and held on, just like he’d done in the hospital, as if letting go would make John disappear into thin air.
“Bed?” John breathed into his neck. “You can tie me up if you want. Make sure you know where you’ve got me.”
Rodney pondered the cuff idea again. It was not bad. Until then, he’d just have to improvise. In a little while...
He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
- fin -